


Redundancy

by nineofwords



Category: Neoscum (Podcast), Shadowrun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 17:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nineofwords/pseuds/nineofwords
Summary: I started thinking about why a corporation might try making super soldiers out of children.Then I started thinking about what might prompt a single man to think up the idea and came up with this. Enjoy.





	Redundancy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Neoscum crew](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Neoscum+crew).



Dr. Suchor smiled a tight, forced smile over his steepled hands. “So. Dr. Elv. I understand you’ve been suffering from a...I believe someone called it a ‘crisis of faith’?” He leaned a little closer to Dr. Elv across his desk. “Why don’t you tell me about this crisis that’s been plaguing you, doctor.”

Dr. Elv swallowed. Dr. Suchor wasn’t known for his kindness. He was a hard man, an efficient man. In his world, you either got things done or you got trampled under those who could. It was this mindset that got him where he was today, that had gotten him his pet project funded by CNC Logistics when it had seemed like no one wanted to touch it. Who the fuck wanted to be involved with creating child soldiers as security drones?

Certainly not Dr. Elv. He vehemently didn’t want to be here. He hadn’t wanted to be involved in the first place, but the pay had seemed too good to pass up. Still, everything good comes with strings attached, and Dr. Elv now knew he couldn’t handle the strings.

But that was weakness, and Dr. Suchor didn’t believe in weakness. Whoever had told Dr. Suchor about Dr. Elv’s misgivings had known this, and wanted Dr. Elv off the project. And this wasn’t the sort of project you just walked away from. Dr. Elv knew he had to tread carefully here if he valued his well-being.

“Sir, any personal reservations I have do not extend to this program. I’m deeply honored to be included in this, and I am thoroughly excited to be allowed to work on such cutting-edge science on a daily basis.”

Dr. Suchor continued to smile grimly over his steepled hands.

Dr. Elv could feel the silence building around him as a physical weight. Dr. Suchor wielded it like a weapon, pairing it with a stillness that made Dr. Elv squirm. In desperation to be free of the stillness and the silence, he said “I was merely, uh,  _ surprised _ at the exact subjects we would be using during our experimentations. I...I have never worked on children before. Child soldiers...I mean it’s not something you see every day.”

“We’re not making child soldiers,” Dr. Suchor abruptly cut in. “We’re making security personnel who are not burdened by sentimentality, who are utterly loyal and obedient. We use children because they are more malleable, because they heal more quickly, and because they are more receptive to the necessary conditioning. Our use of children is for purely practical, scientific, and logistical reasons. As you were made aware in your orientation, Dr. Elv.”

“Sir, I - ”

“You have misgivings about the use of children,” Dr. Suchor interrupted smoothly. “Despite being assured of the legality and practicality of the situation, you still have misgivings.”

Dr. Elv took a deep breath. “It isn’t a problem. I won’t let it be a problem.”

“You have a son, don’t you Dr. Elv?” Dr. Suchor said abruptly. As Dr. Elv gave a start, the smile on Dr. Suchor’s face reached his eyes for a moment. “I’ve read your file. I read the files of all my employees. It makes it easier to find weaknesses before they manifest.” He reached into his desk and pulled out a personnel file. Dr Elv’s personnel file. “Your son is twelve, isn’t that right, Dr. Elv?” He didn’t open the file. He didn’t need to. He’d committed everything he needed to know about Dr. Elv to memory some time ago. Dr. Elv felt his blood go a little cold. “I had a son once,” Dr. Suchor said. “He was a technomancer. My brother was a technomancer too, and he died for it. I didn’t want the same for my son. But it didn’t seem to matter how much he tried to contain it; the power always seemed to find a way out.

“Tell me, Dr. Elv, what exactly is it that you think we’re doing here?”

Dr. Elv was thrown by the abrupt change in subject. “I...er, we...we make soldiers for - ”

“No,” Dr. Suchor said abruptly. “That is the end result. I’m asking you what it is that we  _ do _ . What our purpose is.”

“I...sir, I’m not sure I understand what you’re - ”

“The children we use,” Dr. Suchor said. “We select them based on a rigorous screening process. But if we just wanted children, why would that be the case? What do you suppose we’re looking for?”

“Sir, I don’t - ”

“Come now, Dr. Elv, you’re a scientist. By all reports a clever man. Surely you can figure it out.”

Dr. Elv, under the intense scrutiny of Dr. Suchor, being expected to defend himself, being put on the spot, suddenly felt all ability for rational thought slipping away. He was sure he had no idea what Dr. Suchor was talking about, but even if he had known, he was even more sure that he wouldn’t be able to remember it under that steely gaze.

“Mm. Perhaps not. Perhaps we expected too much from one of the scientists we hired for their ability to think creatively.”

As if on cue, out of the haze of panic came the inspiration, the realization, just as he’d experienced countless times in a medical and scientific lab. All the questions in the written tests about unusual happenings around the child. The hours spent monitoring the children before they went to work on them. Dr. Suchor’s apparent non-sequitur from before, his words about his own child…

“Technomancers,” he said, almost half to himself. “We’ve been screening for technomancers.”

“It would appear that you aren’t as useless as you seem,” Dr. Suchor said almost graciously. “Yes. We look for technomancers.”

“But...why?” Dr. Elv asked. “What’s the point? There’s no practical advantage to using technomancers for our experiments.”

“And yet there’s no disadvantages either,” Dr. Suchor mused. He rose and slowly moved towards the window behind his desk and gazed out of it. “And the advantage we afford them for their...participation...is incalculable.”

“The... _ advantage _ we afford them?” Dr. Elv asked incredulously. “What possible advantages could we - ”

“Respectability.” He turned and met Dr. Elv’s questioning gaze. “Technomancers, in our modern scientific world, are unacceptable, unpalatable, to the common public. They are lawless, incapable of being contained or understood. One shivers to think of what they can accomplish, and how many they could hurt in doing so. But take the same person with the exact same abilities, and apply to them rules and logic, and they become understandable. They become acceptable to people, even respected. They become - ”

“Deckers,” Dr. Elv said quietly, staring at nothing. “We’ve been taking technomancers and turning them into deckers.”

“So you do have a brain in there somewhere after all,” Dr. Suchor said. “Yes, you’ve put your finger on the gist of our operation.”

“But... _ why _ ?” Dr. Elv asked. “Why go through all that trouble just to make soldiers? It’s...it’s redundant. Why eviscerate a child’s soul just to - ”

Dr. Suchor cut him off with a dismissive scoff. “You call yourself a man of science?” He rounded on Dr. Elv and strode purposefully toward him. Dr. Elv took an instinctive step back, and Dr. Suchor raised his chin imperiously. “You speak of ‘souls’, and yet there has yet to be concrete evidence for such things. The uneducated and superstitious will tell you such foolishness as ‘souls’ exist. They would tell you that magic users lose pieces of their souls with each prosthetic they gain, and this is what destroys their magic.  _ I _ do not believe in souls. I believe in science. Therefore, I believe that it is not the loss of the limb, but the  _ trauma _ involved, which disrupts the normal operation of the meta’s brain. Trauma, which quite literally rewrites the neural pathways, could easily have a lasting effect on their ability to call forth magic.

“Blocking a person’s magic entirely then becomes a simple process: Introduce them to enough trauma, and they will never again be able to access their magic. Lobotimize them to make room for a deck, and you needn’t worry over how much trauma is considered ‘enough’ for these purposes.”

“So...the program is just...just a cover? A cover to turn technomancers into deckers? Isn’t that a bit...extreme?”

“Whatever happened to your personal reservations not extending to this project?” Dr. Suchor asked sharply, and Dr. Elv flinched away again. Dr. Suchor smiled at that. “This is Adam’s legacy,” he said simply, half to himself. “The world isn’t ready for technomancers. No matter, though. We shall simply give them what they want, as we always have. That is the task of science, is it not? To take that which is already present, and synthesize it into something easier to swallow.” For a moment, he was a million miles away. Then he exhaled deeply and turned his attention back to Dr. Elv, a smile back on his face. “There is no room for hesitation in this project. This...interview with you has not allayed my suspicions that you have hesitations. You will take an indefinite leave of absence until your nerve improves.” He turned and walked back to his desk.

Dr. Elv felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. “How long should I expect to be suspended from the program?”

Dr. Suchor looked up from settling himself back into his seat, a look of mild surprise on his face. “Dr. Elv, I must say that I’m a bit disappointed in you. You’ve been rather perceptive up till this point.” He turned to one of the reports on his desk as though already bored with the conversation. “For a moment, I’d thought it a shame that we have to destroy such a keen mind. I must thank you for putting to rest such regrets.”

Without warning, iron fingers were closing around Dr. Elv’s arms. He hadn’t even heard the security personnel come in. He turned and looked up into the impassive face of a decker. One of the very first deckers he’d helped design, in fact. He felt his blood freeze in his veins, and it wasn’t until he was almost out of the room that he recovered enough to start pleading.

Dr. Suchor didn’t look up from the report he was reading, in fact didn’t show any further emotions for the man he’d sentenced to death as he was dragged screaming out of the room. Instead, his attention was held by a piece of paper. The paper had a picture of a man - a decker - with a Z shaped scar and an ocular drone. Dr. Suchor scanned the report, a smile forming slowly as he did. Well well well. The prodigal child was heading west. It was only a matter of time, then.

Dr. Suchor leaned back contentedly in his chair. Yes. It was only a matter of time. 


End file.
